SALLY'S HAUNTED BOTHY TRIP

Sally, Kaz (Sally's friend), Alison, Alison's sister Liz, Guy and Steve arrived at the spacious car park next to Dalwhinney's delightful transport cafe late on Sunday evening to spend the night snug in the back of various vans and estate cars.

Awoke early Monday morning and was immediately dissappointed to find that said transport cafe didn't open until 09.00 so we had to delay our departure for a short while whilst waiting for a good cooked breakfast the send us on our way.

Loch Ericht hides out of sight behind a shallow dam a mile or so away from Dalwhinney village On Line Map. It is a long narrow loch about 15 miles in length and has been paddled regularly over the past few years by a few people without problem. The estate has changed hands recently though, and the new (very rich, if the toy castle is anything to go by) owner is apparently less welcoming of none paying visitors. The roads to the loch are now controlled by electronic barriers but one can get fairly close by taking the track that leads to the east end of the dam wall. A barrier at the railway bridge would have prevented vehicular access all the way to the water, had some of the local estate workers not given us the PIN number to open it! (who said the Scots were mean).

The first thing one notices on arriving at the dam is the scariest bit of water immaginable to a canoeist, caused by a large inflow. The sign says Dangerous! Fatal! would have been more accurate, no one falling in here would have stood a chance buouancy aid or not.

We put in a little way away from this turbulant spot into totally calm water and loaded up our canoes, Steve and Guy in my Trapper 500, Alison and Liz in the club Grummen, Sally in her new little Discovery 119 and Kaz in her Prospector.

The weather was dead calm and overcast as we set off into the wild grey yonder with some low cloud hiding the peaks of the Ben Alder range.

The bank changes in character considerably as one progresses, from low rolling farm land to sheer cliffs and evidence of a recent rock fall!

We had our lunch at a respectable distance from this. On the west bank is a new complex of considerable size, built presumably by the new owner, so we kept well to the east side, which is more interesting anyway. We only came across one other boat the whole weekend, a farmer rescuing sheep from inaccessible parts of the bank, and were not challenged once.

As the mountains closed in, we started noticing deer on the ridge tops, monarchs of the glen resplendent with their antlers. Later we would see herds of them on the hill sides. The mountains seemed to bring a stiff breeze with them and the steep sided section in the shadow of Ben Alder looked very dark and forboding and possibly choppy, although the wind was at right angles to the loch. We decided to cross to the windward, west bank whilst the conditions were still reasonably calm and put up with rougher water rather than risk an open crossing further up the loch. The waves were not large, but the wind, one moment with you, the next against you, was slowing the solo paddlers and we still had a few miles to cover whilst the afternoon was drawing to a close. A paddler rearrangement, which left Steve paddling solo, ensured that we arrived at the bothy before dark.

On a trip like this, one always has at the back of one's mind the worry that the bothy might be full, may have burnt down, or be otherwise unattainable, so that on arriving and finding it both well maintained and empty one is immediately filled with a tremendous sense of well being.

Ben Alder Cottage was, in fact, a gem with wooden floor boards and wall cladding, two main rooms each with a fireplace, and a small bunk room. Soon, candles, stoves and fires lit, the place became very civilised indeed with fine wine and good whiskey (that's right, we brought the Irish stuff to Scotland).

It wasn't until after we had gone to bed that I became aware of a presence. At first a rustling noise from the far corner of the room, followed by the patter of tiny feet and the resumption of the rustling rather nearer. Whatever it was it was very, very hungry! It is hard to believe that something as small as a mouse can make so much noise, worse even than Steve's snoring.

We awoke the following morning to the sound of wind and rain beating against the windows and had it not been an employer's unreasonableness in expecting one to turn up to work the next day, I for one would have been tempted to stay put.

The prospect of an epic 12 mile paddle in the teeth of a gale prompted another crew reshuffle, Sally and Kaz joining forces and towing an empty Canoe, whilst Steve and I shared Alison and her sister between us, so to speak.

The wind was blowing in the same direction as the previous day and we immediately set out for the lee shore. The shelter of the hills soon started to make the wind more gusty and variable, often giving a helping hand. In fact as we worked up the loch the weather brightened and the wind was often helping us along very nicely, particularly with the help of Alison's Cag.

The foul weather behind us we found time for a relaxed lunch after having got plenty of mileage behind us. The east shore is well endowed with stopping places though be prepared for a rocky landing.

As the dam came into view the sun broke through for a few moments before dusk and we arrived back around five o'clock (just after the café closed).

Guy

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